


Legends, Lore and Reylo

by stories_in_my_head



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ancient Greek Religion & Lore Fusion, F/M, Inaccurate Ancient Greek Religion & Lore, Retelling of Atalanta and Hippomenes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-02
Updated: 2019-09-13
Packaged: 2020-10-04 13:26:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20471765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stories_in_my_head/pseuds/stories_in_my_head
Summary: A reylo retelling of lesser known Greek myths and lore.





	1. Chase

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lilia_ula](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lilia_ula/gifts).

> Hello and welcome to my Greek mythology inspired Reylo fic. I have thought about writing drabbles and/or fics that incorporate lesser known Greek lore and mythology. Some fics would be set in ancient times, some modern. I cannot promise but there might be one set in canonverse. But everything is thoroughly reylo.
> 
> The first chapter of this work was uploaded as a Twitter fic for House Dadam September drabbles. It is a retelling of Atalanta and Hippomenes. I am quite surprised no one has written one yet. 
> 
> I would like to gift this to [Lilia_ula,](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lilia_ula/pseuds/Lilia_ula) who has inspired me greatly. Thank you for the ideas and more importantly, for the friendship.

It seemed Rey has finally met her match. A crying shame, since he would be dead by sundown. 

"I never thought you’d be so foolish," she muttered. "Leave, while you can." 

He remained calm, unruffled by her plea or the din of peddlers and bet takers inside the amphitheater. Everyone in Jakku was in attendance, grinding hardship and poverty briefly forgotten as they witnessed a real-life tragedy unfolding. 

Kylo Ren of Chandrilla was attempting to beat King Unkar's daughter, Rey, in a footrace to win her hand and her father's kingdom in marriage. 

Known for his strength and raw, untamed power, Kylo was, like her, one of the heroes chosen to kill the magical boar wreaking havoc in Caledonia. Built for battle yet aloof and solemn in appearance, preferring his own company while the others flirted with the lone female.

"You've never - you didn't - you've completely ignored my presence in the Hunt!" 

“You weren't in a mood to be courted,” he replied. "I wanted you more than all the other men in the Hunt put together."

Rey huffed at his blunt admission. "Jakku is a barren wasteland." 

"I have enough land and riches to last me several lifetimes.

"Are you dumb as well as daft? _There's nothing for you here_."

"You,” he said simply. “Just you.”

Rey felt the cold finger of fear brush a trail down her spine. She was undefeated, but his conviction raised her hackles, sensing Kylo had something planned. 

"Have you seen the heads of our former comrades adorning the walls?" 

He nodded. "The fire in their loins blinded them. Underestimating your talents, failing to see the strength underneath your golden skin. They deserved to lose their heads.”

Blood rushed and stained her cheeks. "They also had talismans." She eyed the satchel Kylo held in one arm. 

"They're not talismans."

Scoffing, Rey tamped down a flicker of curiosity at its contents. "Whose temple did you visit to get your worthless trinkets? Apollo, for speed? Ares, for strength? Or to Zeus, for power?"

"Aphrodite."

His unexpected answer caught Rey unaware, and a snort of derision escaped from her shapely mouth. “The mighty Kylo Ren, a follower of Aphrodite? Why would a ruthless warrior like you pray to the goddess of love and beauty?” 

“To help me capture my heart’s desire.” 

She didn’t require the Oracle to know what was his heart’s _ desire _. “And what did the goddess ask in return?”

The edges of his generous mouth curled. “An offering of thanksgiving, on the birth of our firstborn son.”

She gasped. “How dare you! I am a follower of Artemis, and all who enjoy her protection must remain untouched.” All her humor rapidly dissipated in maidenly indignation. “I never wholly agreed with my father’s machinations, but for you, I’ll gladly cut your head off with my bare hands!” 

His retort was drowned by the blare of trumpets, signaling the start of the race. With every nook and cranny of the track etched in memory, Rey held the advantage when she spied an object. It shone in the afternoon sun, its smoothness reminding her of sweet pears. Her attention divided, Rey picked up the trinket and Kylo seized the lead. 

His dominance was short-lived. His frame expelled more energy, while Rey’s lithe form breezed through, overtaking Kylo halfway through the race. She heard his gait slowing and the rustle of fabric. 

Another bauble appeared, rolling in front of her. Prettier and more beguiling than the first. Shaped like summer’s peaches ripened from the branch, its juices tart and refreshing on the tongue. 

Kylo raced up, passing Rey as she stopped and plucked the object from the road. 

His clever scheme was now apparent to all. Those canny enough to bet on Kylo cheered, wild with the anticipation of fat purses. The rest were equally jubilant, if a little poorer, for they found his determination proof he deserved their kind yet stubborn princess. 

Rey whispered a prayer to Artemis at the final stretch, promising eternal fealty should she prevail, burying an ache of regret at causing his untimely demise. Her prayers were answered in the form of a jewel, twinkling and bright. All other thoughts left her mind save for that precious gem. 

She tried to make up for lost time, but the trinkets weighed her down. Kylo had reached the end and won the race. Rey squealed in disbelief, attempting to run the opposite way. A pair of strong, determined hands reached for her. Looking up, Rey saw his eyes blazing with emotion.

“Come, be at ease. You need to reserve your strength, my beautiful _ virgin _ bride,” Kylo taunted, gripping her tighter, allowing her trembling body to feel his body rigid with anticipation. “For Aphrodite has also foretold our firstborn son will be conceived tonight.”


	2. Conquest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> To the victor, belong the spoils. - Sen William Learned Marcy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! A massive thank you to everyone who read, left kudos, commented and liked my fic here and on twitter. 
> 
> The succeeding chapters will be a departure from the standard tale of the myth, where Atalanta and Hippomenes were turned into lions as punishment for daring to have sex in the temple of Zeus. If you can't get a room when the mood strikes...

_ Why is a warrior in need of my help? _

Aphrodite asked of the man bowing in homage. He stated his business. The ability to converse with her was evidence of godly progeny, somewhere deep in his bloodline. 

_ Yes, the girl I’ve heard so much about, _ the immortal mused, displeasure evident in her unlined visage. Cupid bow’s lips, unusual in a man, pursed upon hearing the undisguised insult. 

_ Nothing personal _ , she clarified.  _ I’m certain Lady Rey is beautiful with a temperament to match _ .  _ But you must understand, for one such as me, virgins are like eunuchs. They’re useless. _

“That particular hindrance won’t exist for very long, should you help me.”

The beautiful goddess rolled her eyes. Keenly observing the man’s hitched breath, the throb of his heart took on a faster tempo. His reactions were undoubtedly brought upon by the prospect of divesting the poor girl’s innocence. How Aprhodite pitied these mortals, their predetermined lives fueled by powerful and often uncontrollable earthly desires. Shrugging nonchalantly, she could consider their doomed existence a boon. How else would they seek the gods but to attempt to challenge their fate?

_ What aid do you require? A love potion? Eros’ arrows to pierce her heart? _

“I need to beat her in a footrace.” 

The deity’s delicate brows drew together. Perhaps all the warrior’s blood gathered in his loins, leaving nothing to power his brain? She had half a mind to send this warrior to her  _ beloved _ husband. This was more of Hephaestus’ domain, who could fashion magical footwear with one eye closed. Bored with the same prayers and entreaties laid out on her doorstep, Aphrodite took up this man's strange request. She was up for a challenge.

_ All this palaver for a mere slip of a girl? I believe my father and brothers would be more sympathetic to your plight, _ she suggested.  _ They've perfected the art of conquering a reluctant maiden, Kylo Ren. _

A smile shadowed his scarlet lips. “I’m not interested in such an arrangement. I want to conquer all of her.” He confessed. “The way she has conquered me.” 

_ Oh, he’s good _ . Though impressed, Aphrodite’s temperamental mood demanded to challenge him further.  _ Why don’t you  _ o _ verpower her, render her unconscious, take her away to your kingdom, anywhere you desire. _

“She’s a proud girl and would rather die than suffer such indignities. I need to have her, but on her own terms.”

_ Why  _ ** _do_ ** _ you require one’s maidenhead to be a good hunter? _ She groused, denouncing Artemis under her breath. It’s plain to see this warrior was determined to have that girl, whose allegiance to the goddess of the hunt and unorthodox courtship meant the normal solutions won’t be effective. Her gaze wandered around her temple in search of inspiration, finding a basket of produce placed at the foot of her statue. She was pleased the offerings were freshly harvested, the dew from the produce still clinging on the surface.

_ This… Lady Rey hails from Jakku, in the outer reaches? _ He nodded.  _ I’ve seen it. Wasn’t to my liking. _ Picking up three fruits from the basket, Aphrodite weaved her magic before concealing them inside a drab-colored rucksack. 

_ Perhaps we could improve the scenery, throw something on the ground and entice her to slow down?  _

Kylo spared a brief glance at the humble-looking objects. A smile ghosted his lips as a memory of Rey eating a pomegranate, her look of undiluted pleasure as she bit into the firm flesh, flashed in his mind. 

“I am grateful for your generosity, goddess.”

_I’m sure you are, _She retorted as she peered vacantly into the ether. _I_ _expect nothing less but an extravagant offering on the birth of your firstborn son, nine months from now._

\---

The aftermath was a blur. Servants loyal to Kylo kindly but firmly carried her away for a bath. Expecting to be left alone, she yelped when the attendants proceeded to loosen her clothing. 

"I am not a child nor an invalid, surely I know how to run a bath!" She argued while evading hands determined to remove her attire. Rey’s quick reflexes foiled them, resulting in a game of tag and chase. All the servants were so preoccupied with the recalcitrant bride, they failed to notice someone entering the bath. 

"Lady Rey." The attendants snapped at the crisp, formal tone, pushing themselves back against the wall. Rey turned around to return the greeting, biting a gasp when her gaze crept up and  _ up _ and found a tall, blue-eyed, silver-haired  _ woman _ . "My name is Phasma, personal guard to Kylo Ren. Please do not be afraid. As our master's bride, you have our utmost and unwavering discretion." 

This woman surprised Rey at every turn. Phasma’s proportions were remarkable enough, and to discover her position in Kylo Ren’s retinue was equally, if not more, astonishing. The reluctant bride felt a strange affinity with the female sentry, assuming perhaps this woman would be sympathetic to her plight.

"But I don't need an army to assist me," Rey replied, stomping her feet. She winced at the petulant inflection in her words, but she was desperate to be left alone to gather her wits and formulate a plan of escape.

"Lady Rey -" Phasma halted, pursed her lips and took a deep breath. "My lady, we are proud to serve under our master, but Lord Ren expects his orders to be followed to the letter. He has ordered these people to prepare you for the ceremony."

"I don't want -" 

"He also instructed that should his bride prove to be averse to his instructions, I am tasked to bring you to the ceremony. Immediately."

Rey grumbled inwardly, weighing her chances, then threw caution to the wind and tried to bolt out of the bathhouse. 

"You won't get far, Lady Rey, " Phasma stated. "The rest of his personal guards are posted outside the bathhouse. To preserve your modesty, naturally."

_ Modesty, my foot _ . Defeated, Rey warily accepted the attendant’s services, if only to delay the inevitable. 

Unlike most of the females of her father’s court, vanity wasn’t Rey’s favorite pastime. She maintained a clean, sensible appearance. When she lived in the forest as Artemis' follower, bathing and grooming took only a handful of minutes. Now, perched primly by the edge of the marbled tub, she lost count of the myriad creams, elixirs and extracts applied, washed, and re-applied on her skin. Suppressing a giggle, the rigorous routine reminded her of cooks handling game for roasting. The potions applied on her body were similar to the herbs and sauces glazed over the cooking meat to enhance its tenderness and flavor. 

Scrubbed and washed until she shone like a pearl, servants then rubbed aromatic oils all over her glowing skin. The steady, repetitive motions relaxed her body and the pleasant scent of the oils soothed her agitation. For a moment, Rey forgot the events of the day, and her eyes flickered until exhaustion kept them shut.

Helpers eased the slumbering woman into a more comfortable position and continued their duties in silence. Near the appointed time, one attendant, a woman of Rey’s age named Rose, gently shook the bride awake. Rey was dressed in bridal robes of the finest material. Rose took her buns down and styled the chestnut curls until they fell in a scented, silken heap, crowned with laurel leaves and spring flowers, and finally covered her hair with a red silken veil. Handed a disc of polished metal, the attendants urged the bride to examine her appearance. 

Unwilling to offend, she humored these well-meaning people and examined the result of their handiwork. Aware of her lack of enthusiasm in cultivating feminine wiles, her expectations on the final results were, therefore, understandably low. Rey blinked repeatedly, unable to believe what her eyes could see. The gears of her mind acknowledged it was her image, but the care and skill the servants employed transformed her face, as though Rey was staring at the reflection of a beautiful stranger.

“Have we tended to you well, Lady Rey?” Rose inquired timidly. Rey looked up from her silent appraisal and noticed the servants’ faces were marked with anticipation and a hint of trepidation.

“Is this really me?” Rey asked, her hazel eyes shiny and wide with wonder.

“Of course, Lady Rey.” Rose confirmed. 

"It's beautiful. No, I'm beautiful! It's unbelievable. Thank you." The attendants sighed and tittered. 

“We merely brought out what was hidden underneath the sand and grime. A woman fit for a prince.”

The remembrance of what was to happen stripped away her enthusiasm, and her animated features returned to polite indifference. She repeating her gratitude for the attendants’ hard work in a sincere yet distant tone. Phasma announced it was time for the ceremony and enquired if Rey needed assistance. The bride stood up and shook her head, gathering the remainder of her sanity to walk on her own. 

Rose pulled the veil over Rey's face, as was the custom. The opaque material of the veil hampered her procession, and it took all her concentration and sense of balance not to fall on the stone floor. Jakku might not be as resourceful and wealthy, but she was their princess and thus must behave accordingly. 

The ceremony was brief, the words exchanged were dry and perfunctory in nature, as though her father was selling cattle to the highest bidder instead of giving away his own flesh and blood. She retreated into her own thoughts, remembering the feel of the breeze on her cheeks, the scent of the forest, earthy and natural, while she ran and hunted. A lump swelled painfully inside her throat, and she choked back a sob when she realized that the life, the freedom, she enjoyed was a thing of the past, never to be experienced again. 

The final blessing was spoken. Those who gathered craned their necks, eager to catch a glimpse of the final act to conclude the ceremony. 

"Rey?" Kylo called out. The first word he spoke as her husband was her name. Grateful for the veil, it hid her bemused reaction, for the deep and husky timber of his voice reached her in ways no one ever had before.

“Kylo,” she replied. Her sensitive ears heard her husband draw a deep breath. He gathered the edge of the veil with both hands, and gently lifted the fabric over his wife’s head. 

It was done. They were now husband and wife. 

The wedding feast was a departure from established practice. Both sexes were gathered in the hall and partook the lavish supper. Rey and Kylo were sitting pride of place on the dais, at the end of King Unkar’s great hall. 

“The feast not to your liking,  _ yineka mou _ ?” 

_ My wife _ . She shivered and closed her eyes, praying to Artemis that she was in the middle of a dream, a nightmare, but found no reassurance. Kylo’s considerable height meant he had to stoop to whisper those words against the delicate shell of Rey’s ear. She also heard from the distance wolf whistles and simpering twitters, and darted a withering glare at a group of boisterous guests who delighted at the intimate display. 

“Forgive me,  _ Lord Ren _ ,” she sneered, refusing to call him anything other than his formal designation. “I am not accustomed to being the center of attention.” 

“It’s our wedding feast,” he responded calmly. Too calmly. The breath from his lips was warm against her sensitive flesh. “We’re not expected to linger long,  _ Lady Ren. _ “

It took all her willpower not to spill an amphora’s worth of wine on Kylo’s head. Chin raised, the bride ignored her groom’s insinuations. Looking neither left nor right, she allowed the noise to wash over her during the tedious celebration. 

The feast was a culmination of a series of wedding ceremonies performed over time, mostly spent visiting all the temples in the city and placing offerings to the gods. The families of the bride and groom ensured they forgot no deity, lest the marriage got off to an unfortunate beginning. 

Her father conducted these preparations before each race, his gesture of goodwill to the challenger.  _ Beat the girl and you could wed and bed her by sundown, _ King Unkar was fond of saying. Rey reproached the King, but he waved her concerns away, her objections swept under the rug. Unkar considered the extravagance well spent, especially when he was not bombarded with the wails and complaints from the populace.

Despite each somber conclusion, the King reveled in the pageantry of the race, acting the bumbling father eager to marry off his beautiful daughter. He feted every challenger as though each was a prospective son-in-law, the one the gods had provided to join Rey in matrimony. Now that the prospect had become a reality, the monarch was transformed into a protective father, reluctant to part with his only child. Kylo and his retinue swept away his efforts to delay the conclusion of the wedding ceremonies. 

Father and daughter, so different in appearance and outlook, wore the same dour expression during the festivities. Rey’s wine cup remained untouched, while a constant stream of servants filled Unkar’s. From the corner of her eye, Rey noticed the King’s corpulent features were patched with crimson spots. Had she taken a careful sip, she would have discovered that they served the guests Chandrillan wine and not her father’s watered-down supply. 

The celebrations went on until the initial excitement tapered to a companionable hum. It was during this lull that one guest stood up, proud and boisterous. His right arm held and raised a cup towards the newly wedded couple.

“To Lord and Lady Ren! A long and happy life, and a marriage blessed with many children!”

The hall erupted in cheers. Kylo raised his cup to acknowledge the good wishes. Rey solemnly followed suit, for the man who stood up was one of her people. Hails for the King to make a similar toast became louder. He thumbed his nose, ignoring those calls until someone whispered furiously in the King’s ear. Grumbling, he stood up on unsteady feet. 

“I have been -” the inebriated King halted, thumping his chest and letting out a burp. Rey winced as the cavernous hall carried over the offensive sound. “- asked to say a few words on this occasion of my daughter’s wedding day.” His opening speech was met with tepid applause followed by silence. “I know many of you thought this day would never come.” 

Cries of agreement from the crowd came in waves. Amid her despair, Rey took pride in the admiration of the guests, content in the fact that they found her less than feminine ideals as a virtue within the harsh environment of Jakku. 

From the corner of her eye, she saw Kylo observing the raucous display with a quirk of his generous lips. The expression rendered his noble, solemn countenance into one of uncommon handsomeness. It captivated her attention, how the slight movement of facial muscles softened his disparate features, transforming his face into one worthy of being etched in marble for posterity. 

Her unobtrusive scrutiny wandered as low as she could dare: the slant of his clean-shaven jaw, the corded sinew of his neck, glimpses of pale skin underneath the silken sheath he wore at the marriage ceremony. Awareness prickled and her eyes flew up to see Kylo’s intense regard, his golden eyes fixated on the shape of her lips. Her lips tingled, and she resisted the temptation to bite into the lower lip. Mindful of the heat beginning to flood her cheeks, Rey wished for the privacy of the veil, to hide her reaction of his proximity. 

Kylo treated her no more than the rest during the Hunt; his conduct was constantly direct yet respectful. While the vows of matrimony felt like a shackle around her neck, from his open and frank observance, however, he did not seem to feel the same way. His open and thorough scrutiny enthralled her and kept Rey’s entire being on edge, the noise of the celebration becoming hushed and muted. He leaned slightly, and the amber of eyes darkened to black when she dragged her tongue over parched lips. Like a falcon finding prey, he swooped in to capture his wife’s waiting lips. 

“ _ And I share the same sentiment _ !” 

Rey pulled back, shaking her head to clear her muddled thoughts. Kylo frowned, his jaw grinding in palpable disappointment. She grabbed her neglected goblet and took a sip of the wine, choking visibly at the potency of its contents. 

“My daughter has speed, strength, intelligence. All the qualities I look for. In a son.” The rowdy crowd fell in dumbfounded silence. “I reminded the Queen, damn her soul, to offer more to the gods, to ensure our firstborn would be a boy. Damn woman must’ve missed one deity. All the priests and healers assured it was a boy - and look what I got.”

The monarch, under heavy influence, lost his sense of decorum, and his ramblings altered the happy, boisterous atmosphere. Kylo inhaled sharply, his hands shaping into fists. 

“There’s no need to be outraged on my part,” Rey murmured, seizing his hand when he ignored her murmurs and moved to stand. 

“You’re my wife,” he rasped.

“Kylo. Let him ramble. Please do not make a fuss.” Her husband glared at his oblivious father-in-law, nodded sharply and remained seated.

“Haven’t I given the best offerings? Why didn’t the gods give me a son, someone to inherit my kingdom, instead saddling me with a useless daughter?” Unkar bemoaned. An old man appeared beside the King. Lor San Tekka, a kind, intelligent man who was hired as a tutor, placed his hand over King Unkar’s arm. Unkar grunted and shoved the old man away. Rey stood up quickly to catch her old mentor before he fell to the ground.

“Father, enough!” She admonished her wayward parent while helping her former teacher to stand up, requesting one of the servants to guide the old man away from the commotion.

“You ungrateful bitch! I should’ve taken you up on the highest peak and threw you over the edge, head splitting open when you hit the earth.” He sneered as spittle foamed around his thick, ugly lips. “Your mother begged me to spare your life, promising to give me a son the next time, only to die the following day. Nevermind, I thought, I'll take another queen, but no one wanted to live in this godforsaken piece of land. And then Artemis ordered to preserve your virginity! Denying me a chance to extend my progeny. If I could not marry you off, then perhaps I could take advantage of your little games.”

“It wasn’t a game, Unkar.” Rey refuted. Though smarting from Artemis’ abandonment, Rey defended her goddess. “The rules all came from her, to discourage suitors from beating a path to your kingdom!”

“Bah! Your goddess didn’t think the rules more carefully. All the princelings arrived sniffling for your cunt and I had to feed and serve -”

“I told you we didn’t need to!”

“And lose face?! No, I refuse to be a laughingstock.” Unkar spat on the marbled flooring. “Besides, you were earning their keep by winning the race and I got a good return betting on you.”

“Why engage in such questionable amusements? You are the King of the land! ”

“We’re not drowning in riches, and I merely seized an opportunity to fill my coffers. And you ruined it all by falling for a pair of pretty brown eyes! Drooling over him like a bitch in heat - “ 

Unkar wasn’t able to finish his sentence, as a blade from a sword was placed against his portly neck. The older man took a step back, but was prevented from moving when his shoulder was held in place by a massive hand.

“Rey has pleaded to forgo your indiscretions, but your insults have become too vulgar and impossible to ignore.” Kylo explained, his speech even and pleasant. “Have you forgotten this is your daughter’s wedding day?”

“That’s right, she’s my daughter and under my control!” The fat king blustered. His son-in-law shook his head and pressed the sharp edge of the sword closer to the King’s flesh, enough to draw blood. Unkar squealed, his distress sounding like a pig to slaughter. 

“Not anymore.” Kylo refuted. “Rey is  _ my wife _ . Each word of respect you afford her is a word of respect to me. Every slander you throw at her is an affront to me.”

He looked over to the guests. “Those who follow my lead, know this. Follow her bidding and you follow mine. Deny her, and you’ve denied my will and earned my displeasure.  _ Is that understood _ ?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If Kylo's words ring a bell, I was inspired by a line featured in a regency novel titled "Whitney, My Love".
> 
> Thank you to [sunshineflying](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunshineflying/pseuds/sunshineflying) for gifting the gorgeous, on-theme moodboard. It was a mission to find a photo of Adam which could fit in with the style and she rose to the occasion.
> 
> Speaking of "rising to the occasion," my Writing Den House, House Dadam, has created [a one-off Great British Bake Off fic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20616716), for all reylo Bake-Off fans.
> 
> I know I sound like a broken record here, but I cannot thank [fettucine alfreylo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fettuccine_alfreylo/pseuds/fettuccine_alfreylo) enough for beta'ing this chapter.

**Author's Note:**

> A big thank you to [fettucine alfreylo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fettuccine_alfreylo/profile) for beta'ing this work and for gifting a lovely moodboard to accompany this chapter on Twitter.


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